Missing Elf
by Gwenneth
Summary: What if Legolas hadn't reached Aragorn in time to shoot that one Uruk attacking him at the end of Fellowship? Perhaps our heroes should NOT come out of that battle unscathed...and we sure didn't see much of Gimli in there. Perhaps he was gone for a bit fo


**Missing Elf   
**By Gwenneth

**Disclaimer**: They...are...not...mine. For the hundredth time!!!

**Rating**: PG

**Summary**: Installment of the What-If? Series. What if Legolas hadn't reached Aragorn in time to shoot that one Uruk attacking him at the end of Fellowship? Perhaps our heroes should NOT come out of that battle unscathed...and we sure didn't see much of Gimli in there. Perhaps he was gone for a bit for a reason...like he was injured??

**Aranna Undomiel: **This fic arose from your suggestion. Thank you for the idea. I hope you like it.

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The Western Shore, on Amon Hen...**

"Go on Frodo, run. Run!"

Aragorn's sword gleams in the waning sunlight as he turns away from Frodo and faces the advancing Uruk-hai who approach him from Parth Galen, at the foot of Amon Hen. They are smirking with the prospect of man-flesh this night, but Aragorn has no intention of being that flesh and as he walks steadily toward them, raising his sword in a sort of salute, he grimly counts the Uruk's.

_Out numbered...this battle could go ill if help does not arrive in a timely fashion.How could I have been so lax with my guard? How could they have come so close without me hearing their approach?_

He had no more time to think as he clashed fiercely with the enemy, swinging and blocking with his sword, his movements a blur of skill and might. He took out Uruk after Uruk, climbing atop Amon Hen at one point to slow the onslaught, as only a few Uruk and himself would fit atop the stone ruin. To his delight, Legolas' arrows soon soared into the midst of the Uruk's and Gimli's battle cry erupted nearby.

In rapid succession, Aragorn saw Legolas fire three arrows which quickly found their markets in black flesh. But he didn't have time to watch his friend. He heard Legolas shout, "Aragorn! Go!" as the Elf gave the Man just enough time to begin his flight.

As he ran, he killed any creature in his path, but despite the skills of Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn put together, they were once again halted on Parth Galen, just below Amon Hen, amid more ruins, and Aragorn was set upon by more numbers than he could handle alone. He soon found himself facing a rather skilled Uruk, that just wouldn't die, and inwardly wishes that one of Legolas' arrows would find its home in his opponent.

But, oddly, one does not, and Aragorn is pinned against a stone ruin and disoriented by a blow he had not deflected well enough. In his momentarily daze, he didn't see the Uruk arrow soar from seemingly nowhere, hitting him in the right shoulder and pinging off the stone behind him upon existing his flesh. Aragorn bit back a cry of pain and shoved forward, dislodging the Uruk pinning him.

Then, an arrow finds its mark in the Uruk and Legolas appears behind the creature when it falls to the ground. His eyes widen when they lock on the arrow shaft and he moves to take a step forward to help Aragorn, but suddenly stops and cocks his head to the side. There came a most unwelcome sound. A horn, loud and clear, bleated from afar and Legolas cried out, "The Horn of Gondor!"

Aragorn, not wanting to be looked after right now, rushed past Legolas and the Elf actually had to backpedal quickly to avoid being knocked into. He frowned, but hoped that Aragorn would last through this battle with that wound. He made to follow the Man, but heard a gutteral grunt from behind him and stopped, turning to find Gimli on the ground, trying to hoist himself up with his axe.

Hurrying to the Dwarf's side, Legolas grabbed Gimli's arm and hauled him to his feet, concern washing over his features when the Dwarf stumbled and nearly fell. A quick perusal revealed the reason, a deep gash marred Gimli's leg and blood ran down to mingle with that of the dead Uruk's at the Dwarf's feet. The Elf gasped and knelt for a closer look.

"You are hurt, friend Gimli."

"Bah..." Gimli scoffed, waving his hand. "Tis but a small gash, nothing to worry about laddie. I'll be fine, I wager. Come, we tarry too long and we risk our friend Aragorn getting himself killed for real this time."

Legolas chuckled lightly, but suddenly sobered, realising that the longer they tarried here the more likely Aragorn _would _find himself in danger of losing his life...again. So Gimli, hobbled and Legolas jogged, taking out any straggling Orcs, in the directions that Aragorn had retreated. Soon, the din of battle reached their ears. But it was not the din of many foes, more like a single duel.

They quickened their pace.

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There was no sign of Merry, Pippin, Sam or Frodo, but Aragorn's eyes were met with a grisly scene nonetheless. A lone Uruk, likely a captain of sorts, stood over Boromir, who was gravely wounded, prepared to fire an arrow point-blank into the son of Gondor's body. With a cry, Aragorn lunged, throwing himself against the Uruk and rolling back to his feet, turning to meet his enemy.

This Uruk was larger than most and looked quite a bit stronger. A little voice in the back of Aragorn's mind told him, he wasn't going to be able to beat the Uruk as easily as your average Orc. And he was quickly assured of that. The blows this Uruk delivered had the power of two men behind them and every time Aragorn clashed swords with the creature his arms would shake with the force of the blows.

His shoulder was fairly screaming with pain now and his vision was blackening around the edges, sure signs that he was near to loss of consciousness. _If I pass out now, we are both dead. _

So he fought harder.

And the blade was knocked from his hands. Aragorn looked up just in time to see something flying toward him and to his immense surprise, found himself pinned up against a tree by an odd looking shield of sorts which had lodged around his neck. Peering over the shield, he saw the Uruk smile and advance, blade raised, and Aragorn wasted no time in struggling free, biting back the pain in his arm.

Blood poured out of the wound as he picked up his sword, running down his arm and making his grip slip on his sword. He watched the vile Uruk lick its own blood from the dagger Aragorn had imbedded in its leg, then fling the dagger at the man, who quickly raises his sword and swings it like a bat, knocking the dagger aside. Rising, Aragorn fights the Uruk again, this time delivering what should have been a killing blow, but the Uruk simply growls and pulls himself onto the man's sword. Aragorn frowns, than rips the sword free, swings a mightly blow and relieves the Uruk of its head. And just in time too. His energy spent, he barely made it to Boromir's side before he collapsed to the ground beside the man.

But he quickly forgot his own injury as he took in the tree deeply imbedded Uruk arrows in Boromir's flesh. "No!" He cried.

Struggling to speak, but urgent with need to deliver his message, Boromir said, "They took the little ones."

Their conversation is quiet, but earnest and full of sorrow, but the two who slowly approach from the rear cannot hear it. Legolas, arrives and looks on, his eyes no longer full of mirth and glee, but pain and sorrow. Tears well up, but dare not fall. He had not been close to the man of Gondor, but he hated death as much as the next being and it pained him to see the shaking shoulders of Aragorn as the man leaned forward and kissed the man's forehead.

Standing, shaking lightly in pain and sorrow, Aragorn looks up with teary eyes and says quietly, but with conviction, "They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return."

Regaining his senses, Aragorn grips his shoulder and winces. Legolas is at his side in an instant, but doesn't act immediately. His eyes are riveted to the now lifeless body of Boromir. He has faced death before, but to the immortal Elf the death of an ally was quite different from the death of a foe. And death always pained him. The pain shown in his eyes as he met those of Aragorn and reached for the man's shoulder.

"We need to remove this and bind it, Aragorn," he whispered, not sure of his voice at the moment. Gimli had reached them now, still limping, but holding out well. Legolas was the only one who appeared unscathed, but that didn't convince Aragorn he was all right. "Okay, but only if you consent to let me look you over too."

A small grimace crossed Legolas' face, confirming for the man that something was amiss. His eyes immediately looked the Elf over and came to rest on Legolas' left forearm where a leather bracer should have resided. There was none. And the tunic and flesh were badly torn from his arrow fletchings. "It is fine, Aragorn. I will bind it later."

Aragorn suddenly screeched and jerked away. Legolas held that arrow, smiling. "You could have warned me, Legolas!"

"Why," the Elf said, "it would have hurt more if you had been anticipating it."

Aragorn scowled and grabbed Legolas' arm. The Elf's eyes widened in shock as the man quickly whipped out a bandage and began to wrap it around the Elf's forearm. "What are you doing?" Legolas said, trying to pull away.

"I don't want you bleeding all over me when you tend my wound."

Legolas laughed and looked at Aragorn's tunic. "Why? You're full of blood anyway."

Gimli cleared his throat. "I'm glad you can joke right now, but please...our companion lies dead at our feet. Let us tend our wounds and lay him to rest."

Both Legolas and Aragorn looked down at that, mortified that they had been joking so soon after Boromir's death. But Gimli hurumphed. "Sorrow's best remedy is glee."

They all nodded, pondering this, and quickly finished tending wounds. Then, they set about the sad task of sending off a proud warrior, laying him inside one canoe with his weapon, his split horn, and the weapons of the foes he had conquered in battle, a fitting send off for a proud warrior.

**THE END**


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